When my alarm blared last Monday morning, I reached for my phone as reluctantly as always, yet when I slid the bar on the screen to turn the alarm off, I noticed I had 17 text messages.
“There’s a shooting at (Chardon High School),” read one from my older sister.
“You went to Chardon, didn’t you?” went another.
“Shooting at Chardon today?”
They went on and on and on. Before I’d even fully woken up, there was a hard knot where my stomach used to be and my head was spinning.
I graduated from Chardon High School in 2010. I spent my entire life living across the street from the school with a view of the brick building from my bedroom window. During my four years, I was heavily involved at CHS.
In the winter, there were often days when I would get to school when it was still dark and I wouldn’t leave until after the sun had gone down. I could traverse the halls blindfolded if it had ever been necessary.
Chardon is a small city, and is still often called a village; everyone knows everyone else, and everyone knows everyone else’s business. We’re best known for maple syrup, snow, slightly “hick-ish” tendencies and a passion for football.
And now we’ll be remembered for Feb. 27, 2012.
Yet when I think back on that day, it won’t just be the pain I remember. More than the pain, the fear, or the grief, it will be be the love and compassion I will remember. I will remember the outpouring of support from social-networking sites, area high schools and my friends.
I will never forget the sight of almost 200 people gathered around Athens’ Civil War Memorial as Chardon alumni shared their memories of my hometown. I will remember seeing Dean Ryan Lombardi in the crowd and listening as people who may have never heard of Chardon joined us in singing the alma mater.
I will remember feeling more love in that moment than I ever had in my life.
And for that, I want to thank every Ohio University student or faculty member who came to the vigil or wore red or even simply prayed for Chardon this week. To know that my community down here is just as supportive, caring and loving as mine at home is a comfort.
In Chardon, we have a saying: “one heartbeat.” Throughout the course of the day Monday, that saying evolved, becoming: “One school. One town. One heartbeat.” I now know that while there’s still just one hearbeat, it doesn’t just pulse through one school and one town.
Here in Athens, four hours away, I still can feel it beating.
Rest in peace, Danny Parmertor, Russell King and Demetrius Hewlin
Nicolien Buholzer is a sophomore studying journalism and the culture editor of The Post. Are you a Hilltopper? Email her at nb360409@ohiou.edu.
